


Husk

by Valya (grandSolovey)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst and Porn, M/M, Mostly porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandSolovey/pseuds/Valya
Summary: After conquering the Crystal Tower, a haunted Warrior of Light prepares to spend yet another night alone.





	Husk

The moon hung low in the cloudless sky, and the Eight Sentinels below were awash with its soft, pale light, mingling with the gleaming glow of the Syrcus Tower behind them. The expedition party had already begun to disperse: first Rammbroes and his researchers, then Cid and his engineers, leaving only G’raha Tia, Doga, Unei, and the Warrior of Light behind. They lingered, but not overlong; there was much to be done, yet another great evil to be defeated within the awakened tower, and they had precious little time.

“Wait.”

At a single word from the Warrior of Light, however, the others stopped, turning back with curious looks. Until now, Robyn had held his tongue—Robyn Lanner, a Midlander slight of build and unassuming in stature, in such extremes that few would take him for such a storied hero were it not for his mastery of black, forgotten arts. But he spoke now, looked to G’raha with an uneasy stare, and did his best to fix a look of determination on his face before he turned to Doga and Unei.

“What you said just now... Those others in the tower, the other... _clones_ , like you— _empty husks_ , you called them.”

He hesitated there, casting about for the proper words, leaving enough time for Doga and Unei to exchange a questioning glance with each other. Before he could speak again, Unei turned that same questioning glance back to Robyn. “We only spoke of them to warn you of the danger they would present,” she said, “so that you would not hesitate to strike them down. I understand if this makes you ill at ease, but...”

Quickly, and perhaps not entirely convincingly, Robyn shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I was just...wondering.” He had looked to Unei as he spoke, but once he found himself hesitating again, so too did he find his gaze sliding downward. “You said that...that their only purpose is to protect the tower. That they have no will of their own. And I was only wondering if—if that’s really true.”

At that, the pair’s eyes widened, and they exchanged another glance, uneasier than before. This time, Doga was the first to speak up: “I know we only just met a short while ago, but I can assure you, we have no reason to lie to you about such a thing—or aught else, for that matter.”

Once again Robyn shook his head, more vigorously than before. “No— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— I didn’t think you were lying. I just...” Once again, he found himself struggling for words. “The two of you... You were both given _wills_ , by the real—by the _original_ Doga and Unei, right? So, I just thought...”

As he worked it out in his head, he couldn’t deny how outlandish his plea would sound. But he was determined to make it nevertheless.

“I just thought—wouldn’t we be able to do the same? For those other clones—for those _husks._ ”

If they were surprised before, then this was enough to downright shock them. But Unei, at least, seemed to mull it over, and she brought a hand to her chin as a pensive look crossed her features.

“If such a thing were possible...” Her brow knit as she considered the idea; eventually, though, she sighed and shook her head. “Whatever method the original Doga and Unei used is lost to us now, perhaps not without good reason.”

“Besides,” said Doga with a shrug, “even if we did have that knowledge, I sincerely doubt those clones would give you much opportunity to make use of it. They were programmed to attack, not to stand around and parley.”

Robyn had fully expected that what he sought might well be an impossibility...and yet, that made it no less difficult to hear their answer. Perhaps the others noticed it in the sullen stare he cast down to the ground, or perhaps in his crestfallen tone as he muttered in response, “I see”—either way, his disappointment was impossible to miss. But the first among them to break the awkward air that followed was G’raha, stepping forward to clap a hand on Robyn’s shoulder.

“It’ll be alright,” he said, with a toothy, reassuring grin. “Even if you weren’t the Warrior of Light, I’ve seen the way you do battle, and there’s no way those things will be any match for you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

At first, Robyn could feel nothing but doubt—until he looked up to G’raha, and caught that glint of red, the Allagan red of his eye... That’s right, wasn’t it: G’raha had much more to worry about, what with the whole of his heritage having just been thrown into question. As if Robyn ever had to contend with that—with the question of who he really was, or where he really came from...

His hand, hanging at his side, slowly clenched into a fist—but the creak of his leather glove reached only his ears, and he looked to G’raha and the others with a smile on his face.

“You’re right. It’ll be fine.” Robyn turned to Doga and Unei, still smiling, with a slight incline of his head. “Sorry if I troubled you. We can talk more about this after Xande is dealt with, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The two of them smiled as well, seeming almost relieved at Robyn’s change in mood. “Of course,” said Unei, while Doga replied with just a nod of his head.

And that was that. Robyn bid the three of them farewell, leaving them to their own business and departing the same way the others had already gone. There was so much to be done—a course to be charted, preparations to be made, adventuring allies to be gathered—and such precious little time...

“Are you quite sure you’re satisfied with that answer, Warrior of Light?”

The voice stopped him dead in his tracks, though he might well have stopped anyway once he saw just who had spoken: Nero tol Scaeva, whom he had thought already left some time ago, instead leaning against the far wall like he hadn’t a care in the world. At once, Robyn found himself on the defensive; just how much of that conversation had he overheard?

Well, if his question just now was any indication, he’d heard enough. Robyn clenched both fists this time, fixing Nero with as steely a gaze as he could muster.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, hoping the finality in his tone would be enough to put the matter to rest. “What matters now is defeating Xande and sealing off the tower. I can worry about the rest later.”

Nero turned his own steely stare upon him in response, and Robyn found it a struggle not to wilt beneath it. He hadn’t found nearly this much difficulty standing up to the man in their previous encounters—not even deep within the Praetorium, when the very fate of Eorzea was at stake—but in this moment, when he felt as though that piercing gaze alone was probing every inch of his being and deeper within, as though it was seeking out the truth of his existence, the truth that lay behind his vaunted heroism, behind the fabled _Warrior of Light_...

But, unexpectedly, it was Nero who broke the stalemate first—before Robyn himself could break, thankfully—by snorting, pushing off the wall and shrugging his shoulders. “If you insist,” he said, in a tone that could hardly be more obviously insincere if he tried. “Far be it from me to stand in your way, then. As you were...”

He turned on his heel and strode off into the dark, leaving Robyn alone with his unease. He doubted very much that Nero had no intention of _standing in his way_ , but what could he do about it now? Nothing but to move forward, onward and upwards, striking down with fire and ice and lightning and blood whomsoever and whatsoever fought to impede his path...

So it ever was, and so it ever would be for the Warrior of Light, Hydaelyn’s appointed savior. So it ever was and so it ever would be for a creature like him, born with no other purpose than to stand and fight and fight until death.  
  


* * *

  
So it was that Robyn lived up to his appointed title yet again: he had fought his way to the top of the crystal tower, defeated the evil that awaited him there and in the void beyond its peak, and escaped the abyss with his allies unscathed...and then was left to watch as G’raha Tia took the fate of the tower into his own hands, sealed its mighty doors and laid it to rest once more.

But it wasn’t the loss of G’raha which kept Robyn awake that night, tossing and turning in his cramped lodgings at Revenant’s Toll. It was a different loss entirely—the ones who had been left in the abyss, Doga and Unei, and his last chance to learn from them anything of his own self.

In truth, he should have counted himself extraordinarily fortunate to have escaped the void when he did, and perhaps even more fortunate that G’raha and Nero had escaped alongside him. But the Allagans... Even though they weren’t true Allagans, even though they might better be considered _copies_ than the genuine article, the fact remained that they possessed more Allagan knowledge between the two of them than Robyn could ever possibly hope to decipher on his own. And even though they had passed some semblance of that knowledge on to G’raha... Well, now he was gone too—and Robyn was left alone, left with piles of questions that would never find an answer, feeling no more enlightened as to his sense of self or purpose than he was at the very beginning of this entire journey.

Throughout his travels across Eorzea, Robyn had come to learn that it was common, painfully common for living beings to wonder why they were born. Eventually he had reached the conclusion that it was far less common for there to exist a concrete answer to that question, and while that thought should have brought him comfort, it was anything but comforting to realize that his answer lay buried beneath mountains of crystalline rubble, locked away behind impassable doors and incomprehensible technology, and eroded from the passage of thousands, thousands of years.

And then, just when he had finally found what could have been a key to all those locks and doors—just when he had found a single beacon of hope in the interminable void, illuminating a shining path through the darkness of millennia past—only for it to slip from his grasp, with no hope of return... It was too much for him to bear.

But he would have to bear it, wouldn’t he? Whether he liked it or not. He was the Warrior of Light, after all, and it was his duty to become that beacon of hope against the encroaching dark—for the sake of others, for the sake of all others, for the sake of the entire realm, not for himself.

Whether he liked it or not...

A sharp knock came at the door to his room, instantly jerking Robyn from his thoughts. An urgent missive from the Scions or the Eorzean Alliance, no doubt; why bother activating his linkpearl, after all, when he was bedding down so close to the Rising Stones? On one hand he was glad for the reprieve, as any excuse to get up from his bed was vastly preferable over continuing to toss and turn and worry over what might have been—but on the other hand, that reprieve was sure to be brief once he actually learned whatever it was the Scions wanted of him now. Perhaps he was needed to hunt down more Garleans or Ishgardian heretics or, Twelve forbid, yet another primal...

The sight that greeted him once he opened the door, however, was by far the last thing he might have ever expected: a Garlean visitor, no less than Nero tol Scaeva himself leaning against the frame of the door. He was wearing a mask, the very same outlandish mask that had kept his third eye hidden from view when Robyn had encountered him, then unknowing, unsuspecting, in the streets of Revenant’s Toll so long ago, but there was no mistaking him now, none whatsoever.

“Didn’t happen to wake you, did I?”

Nothing in the tone of Nero’s voice suggested he actually cared about Robyn’s answer one way or the other, and even if he had feigned that much, there was somehow even less care to be found in the way he pushed off the frame, ducked his head and swept past Robyn to make his way into the already-cramped room. For Robyn’s part, even if he did have the physical strength to stop him, the suddenness of his appearance had him reeling far too much to even think of standing firm.

“Not much to look at, is it...” He didn’t even turn back to Robyn as he strolled past, taking what was clearly, despite the mask, a disinterested look around the room. “One should think the people of Eorzea a bit less _stingy_ when it comes to lodging their beloved _savior_ , no? Or perhaps this truly is the best they have to offer.”

Still, though he hadn’t the strength or presence of mind to stop Nero’s trespass—or, really, to do anything about it at all, as he found himself practically rooted to the spot where he’d been shuffled aside—it didn’t take long for Robyn to at least regain his verbal faculties.

“What are you...” But the words died in Robyn’s throat as another, more pressing question came rising to the front of his mind. “Why are you still in Mor Dhona?”

Nero had disappeared, hadn’t he? By Cid’s account, at the very least, and Robyn had never thought of Cid Garlond as a man inclined to dishonesty. And if he was truly in hiding from Garlean forces, as he had once claimed, then why would he linger here any longer than necessary? Unless... What reason could there possibly be that would keep him here?

Nero’s first response was a simple, unimpressed _tut_ , the kind that was enough to shake Robyn from his state of shock and put him on the defensive. “I shouldn’t need a reason to go or _not_ go as I please,” he began, and before Robyn could cut in with rightful objection, he continued, “There was a matter requiring my attention at Carteneau, and no more than that would be of any interest to you.”

Once again, Robyn found himself searching for objections—just how far away were the Carteneau Flats from here, anyway? And given what he knew of the place, who was to say that _anything_ there would be of no interest to him? But, yet again, Nero cut him short, removing his mask with a deft flick of his wrist.

“And do shut that door, would you? I do have a reason for being here, and I can’t imagine you’d want anyone else listening in on what I have to say.”

Robyn’s blood ran cold. Nero couldn’t possibly... No, it would do him no good to jump to any conclusions. But neither would it do him any good to leave the door open, just in case his worst fears _were_ confirmed, and so he finally shook himself loose enough to swing it shut.

Of course, as the latch clicked into place, it didn’t escape Robyn that he could simply throw Nero out. But it also occurred to him that his mage’s staff was clear on the other side of the room, and he was hardly worth anything at all in a physical fight, meaning no matter how much he might have wanted Nero to leave, there was little he could do to force the matter. With anyone else he could have been certain that his status of Warrior of Light would put enough weight behind his threats for them to actually _mean_ something, but with Nero...

In any case, he was also reasonably certain that the Garlean would cause him more trouble than it was worth to put up a fight, and so Robyn concluded that his best option was just to hear him out. For now.

“Good, good.” Once he saw the door was shut, Nero tucked away his mask into his coat pocket and turned his attention to a bureau sitting against the far wall, idly scanning over the assortment of potions and papers and plundered trinkets Robyn had haphazardly laid out upon it. “Glad to see you’ve still some reason about you. Wouldn’t want to have wasted my time coming all the way out here...”

“Then stop wasting _my_ time,” Robyn snapped, nearly surprising himself with the force of his words. “Tell me what you want or get out. I’ll even _open_ the door for you, if you like.”

Nero made another tutting sound, to which Robyn found himself clenching his fists tighter and tighter. Not that he could have done much with them; he could hardly throw a punch to save his life, after all. “So impatient... No sense of intrigue...” He picked up a potion bottle as he spoke, held it up to the dim light of a nearby lamp and slowly turned it, watching its contents swirl to and fro. “Then again, I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me to see you so harried. The people of this land must run you _ragged_ with how often you’re tasked to _save_ them, from eikons and beastmen and everything else in this blasted realm... Am I wrong?”

Robyn’s nails dug harder and harder into his palms, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to give Nero the dignity of a response—more than that, though, he didn’t want to lie when he knew Nero would see right through it, and like hells did he want to tell him the truth.

“Well, in any case—that’s not why I came to speak with you.” Nero set the bottle back down and finally turned to face Robyn fully, arms folding pensively over his chest. Robyn might have felt grateful for the change of subject, but the looming dread of whatever Nero actually wanted to talk about far outweighed any possibility of hope. “Not exactly... But I do suppose the fact of your _exceptional_ capacity to slay eikons is not wholly irrelevant to the subject.”

“How?” As much as he wanted to lash out again, more than anything else Robyn just wanted him to get to the point, and he figured there was no better way of accomplishing that than keeping his own responses as short and straightforward as possible.

“Simply in that there is so little about you—” And as Nero spoke, he gestured with one hand to Robyn, indicating the whole of him with one short wave. “—that would suggest such incredible strength, such... _unwavering_ resolve. Any man who looks you over without knowing your name or your deeds should have no reason to suspect aught of you outside the strengths and shortcomings of any other, any _ordinary_ adventurer... Now, am I wrong?”

No, Nero wasn’t wrong at all. But Robyn alone knew just what pains and efforts he had taken just to make himself seem so ordinary...only now, under Nero’s probing, piercing stare, he suddenly felt _alone_ no more.

“That, of course, is a rhetorical question.” Nero waved his hand once again, this time in a dismissive gesture. “If I had truly expected you to answer, there would have been hardly any need for me to ask... But you play your cards far too close to the chest for that.”

“What do you know about me?”

Robyn’s words were terse, his voice tight. He couldn’t bear much more of this—he just wanted Nero to get to the _point_ already. But Nero still seemed intent as ever to take this at his own pace. A slow smirk rolled across Nero’s features, sending a pang of—of fear, of worry, of _something_ that he didn’t fully understand down Robyn’s spine, and he lifted his shoulders in a languid shrug.

“I know that you are a hero to Eorzea,” he began. “A vaunted slayer of eikons, of the XIVth Legion and now the keepers of the Crystal Tower, having risen from the ranks of the unknown to hearing your name celebrated in every corner of the land in the blink of an eye. I know that your _humble origins_ found you washed ashore on the banks of westernmost Thanalan, where you claimed to have lost your memory in whatever transpired to land you there... And I know that, in the weeks prior to its untimely fall, there were several reports from Castrum Marinum concerning a collection of rather unusual and most _ancient_ wreckage that had been dredged from the Rhotano floor—machinery that was far too broken and battered by the sea to be of any use, but was unmistakably _Allagan_ in origin.”

Robyn’s breath caught in his throat. There it was, his worst fear now all but confirmed. Nero advanced upon him with a single step, still smirking, and Robyn felt not at all unlike prey caught under a predator’s gaze.

“I know that you were possessed of an unusual interest in saving those doomed clones in the halls of the Crystal Tower...and that you were possessed of a remarkable grief upon learning that it couldn’t be done.” He loomed over Robyn now, his face as smug as ever. “Tell me. Am I _wrong?_ ”

What could he say? How could Robyn possibly deny him when Nero had already put so much together, or even failing that, when he had so clearly given away the truth in his reactions, in the look upon his face? How could he bear it—that, of all the people in this world who could possibly learn of his true origins, it had to be _Nero tol Scaeva—_

Before Robyn could look away, Nero reached for him, took hold of his chin with an unexpectedly gentle grasp—gentle enough to startle Robyn, to keep him from instantly jerking away—turned his head from side to side, and stared deeply into his eyes.

“You lack the mark of royalty, to be sure...” The smirk was gone from Nero’s face, and in its place was a keen look Robyn had only seen once before, at the peak of the Crystal Tower. “But there is no doubt in my mind that the power of the Allagans runs through your veins.”

He spoke in a breathless tone, one that caught Robyn entirely off-guard—but that ended as soon as he felt Nero’s thumb trace over the scar on his cheek, and he finally realized just how close the other man was. At once he snatched Nero’s wrist away, but his grip was shaking, far weaker than he willed it to be.

Was it fear? Or was it something else entirely?

“What...” What could he even say? There was a massive coil of emotions surging in his chest, wound tight and threatening to burst, and he felt as though he could put words to exactly none of them—but he had to try, didn’t he? “Why... How does any of this _matter_ to you?” He met Nero’s eyes with a frantic look, aiming somewhere for _angry_ but landing somewhere in _pleading_ instead. “So, what— I was made by the Allagans, _fine_ , you’ve figured it out, I don’t know _how_ , but— But what does that change? I’m no tool for you to use, no—no _Ultima Weapon_ for you to bring to heel, no _toy_ for you to play with! So why—”

Nero cut him off with a barking laugh, startling Robyn so deeply that he completely lost the thread of words that had been tumbling out of his mouth. “Oh, we can be _most_ sure of that. You’re the man who _conquered_ Ultima, and the Crystal Tower, at that! To think, that the greatest known creations of Allag could scarcely _begin_ to rival your strength...!”

His words were breathless again, and there was a wild glint in Nero’s eyes, and Robyn knew not what to say. This time, he _was_ wrong—Nero was wrong, and Robyn knew it more deeply than he could bear. He was nothing without Hydaelyn, after all. Without the Echo, without Her blessing of light, without the Scions and everyone else who had ever aided him along his path to glory, he was little more than scrap, an utter failure in every way, even when it came to the matter of his own termination. Hells, he hadn’t even been much of a mage until he had somehow chanced into finding the Gem of Shatotto; he was an inadequate thaumaturge, a defective model, destined for no more than the testing facilities of Azys Lla and no less than a watery grave at the bottom of the Rhotano Sea. He was nothing, and never did he feel it more keenly than he did here and now, with Nero laying the truth of his past bare.

“To _think..._ ”

But if any of Robyn’s turmoil made itself known in his outward expression, Nero either didn’t notice or ignored it entirely. Instead he brought his other hand to the other side of Robyn’s face, once again startling Robyn entirely too much for him to do anything about it.

“That _you_ , the so-called _Warrior of Light_...are in fact the very _pinnacle_ of ancient Allag’s achievement... How _delectable_ is that?”

Robyn knew not what to say. His already weak grip on Nero’s wrist slackened considerably, leaving Nero free to take Robyn’s face in both of his hands, to lean down and press his lips to Robyn’s forehead.

There was little doubt in Robyn’s mind that what Nero saw in him now bore no meaningful difference from what the rest of Eorzea saw in him: a weapon of unmatched power to be brought against the primal menace, whether as their first solution or last resort, but always one upon which they would ultimately depend. Certainly the Allagans who brought him into existence never intended such lofty goals for him—true, his memories of those first few days of his existence were vague at best, but surely he was never meant to rise above the rank and file, and in the end he couldn’t reach even that most basic level of proficiency—but was the actual purpose of his birth any different? He was born to fight, to fight and to fight and to fight until the day he either fell or was no longer needed, and to that end would he ever perform.

With the way he spoke—with the way he had even broached the very subject, all but boasting in Robyn’s face that he had finally learned the truth—Nero could not have possibly seen him any differently. And yet, in his touch—in the soft splay of his hands as they traveled down to his chest, such unexpected gentleness from a man he knew capable of such cruelty—in the curve of his lips, hot against the corner of his jaw, the side of his neck—there was something different. There was something far different from anything Robyn had ever known.

He felt wanted. Ever had he been needed by this realm, more often than not to save it, but for the first time in his short life, he truly felt _wanted._

He could have easily rejected Nero. Indeed, the thought that rejecting him was surely the only responsible course of action here briefly crossed his mind—but only briefly. How many days had it been, after all, since he had first struck out into this world; how many nights had he spent on his lonesome, tossing and turning just as he had done moments prior, never once knowing the touch of another, never once knowing their _need?_ Not even once had this thought occurred to him, and now here was Nero, bringing it and everything else Robyn had never dared to acknowledge about himself into stark, unmistakable relief.

“How utterly _delightful..._ ”

Robyn’s breath caught in his throat when he felt Nero’s words hot against his skin, followed by a flick of his tongue. There was no use in debating over pretense, he quickly decided; he wanted this, and he could deny it no longer. His hands, once hanging uselessly at his sides, now moved to clutch at the back of Nero’s coat, pulling somewhat less uselessly at his shoulders.

At once, Robyn felt the curve of another smirk against his throat. “So,” came Nero’s low, muffled voice, “you _do_ want to play.”

“Shut up.”

There was no true venom in Robyn’s reply, only impatience, which also made itself known in the way he continued to tug at Nero’s clothes, abandoning his coat for the frankly absurd assortment of buttons and belts underneath. To his credit, Nero said nothing more after that; he only laughed his barking laugh and rewarded Robyn’s sudden impatience with a sharp bite to his neck, eliciting a surprised gasp on Robyn’s part, which quickly developed into a keening noise once Nero laved his tongue and sucked over the spot.

This, truly, was like nothing Robyn had ever known. Already he was feeling dizzy, hardly able to comprehend anything past the raw input of sound and scent and touch—the low rumble in Nero’s throat, the smell of oil and dust that wafted off his hair and his clothes, the scratch of his stubble against the sore spot on his neck... And before Robyn knew it, Nero’s deft hands had found their way beneath Robyn’s undershirt, pulling it over his head in a motion so swift that Robyn couldn’t be sure how the man’s lips had ever left his neck in the time intervening. With his hands now at Robyn’s hips, Nero guided him slowly, firmly back to the bed, never once relenting in the movement of his teeth and tongue over Robyn’s neck and jaw.

Truly, Robyn had not the smallest amount of firsthand knowledge as to what, exactly, he should be doing—but he could make an educated guess. He curled his hand over the back of Nero’s neck, fingers lightly scratching at the nape of his neck, and pulled him down as he sank onto the bed, only releasing his hold as he clambered back and away from the edge in a motion that felt much more awkward than it probably was.

If there was any awkwardness to be found, Nero didn’t seem to notice. Rather the contrary: he followed Robyn down with a look of rapt hunger upon his face, slowly licking his reddened lips as Robyn moved for him, and once again Robyn felt it was not at all unlike a predator’s gaze that Nero laid upon him—but this time, there was no fear in the realization. This time, he was ready to be devoured.

“What a sight to behold...”

If Robyn didn’t know any better, he might have called Nero’s words reverent. Before he could warn him to _shut up_ a second time, Nero was running his hands over him again, only somewhat less gently than before: long, callused fingers probing over the muscles of Robyn’s bare chest, thumbing over his nipples, skating over the plane of his stomach with a touch just light enough to put an arch in Robyn’s back... And then, just as Robyn caught sight of another smirk on Nero’s curled lips, his hand slid further down, circled round his hips to cup the bulge in his pants, and squeezed.

“ _Fuck!_ ” By no means was Robyn a stranger to the touch of his own hand, but this—this was enough to put stars in his eyes. His back arched nearly off the bed entirely as Nero, still smirking all the while, continued to grope and massage him through the thin fabric of his pants. “Fuck— _Nero—_ ”

“I must say,” Nero murmured, continuing to utterly torment Robyn with one hand while idly rubbing the other up and down the length of his side, “the way you’re mewling right now sounds positively _virginal..._ Could it possibly be, the Warrior of Light—”

“Shut _up._ ” Instinctively, Robyn’s hands went to cover his face. If things hadn’t already gotten to this point, Robyn would almost certainly have thrown Nero out over it, lack of physical strength be damned...but, now that things _were_ at this point, he knew that the touch of his own hand wouldn’t be enough after this. Perhaps it might never be enough for him ever again.

“Fine, fine.” Nero drew his hands away, and to his deepest regret, Robyn found himself uttering a purely involuntary whimper when he did. “Have it your way... Besides, if my assumptions are correct, then we wouldn’t want you going off before the main event, now, would we?”

There was still a part of him that felt deeply mortified, more over his own reactions than anything else, but Robyn finally managed to pull his hands away from his face as Nero spoke. He didn’t really understand what Nero meant, but he quickly realized that it didn’t really matter, either, as Nero was now finally disrobing himself, tossing his shirt and coat carelessly over the side of the bed before unbuckling his trousers.

Dimly, Robyn realized that he should probably be doing the same. Still, he could hardly tear his eyes away from Nero as he fumbled with his own pants, squirming in the least awkward way he could possibly manage while roughly shoving them down his hips... And then Nero’s eyes met his, and he let out a low, dark chuckle, and Robyn immediately felt his defenses rise for another teasing jab.

“Such _impatience._ ” Before he could be told a third time to shut up already, Nero had taken the matter of Robyn’s pants into his own hands, and quite literally at that. He’d scarcely been given time to react—but Nero paused then, looking over the whole of him with a soft sigh.

“Ahh, what perfection... Just as I expected.”

Robyn’s mind went blank, perhaps in protest of his attempt to process the fact that Nero was seeing him—seeing _all_ of him—in a way he had never truly been seen before. He had only just begun to struggle for words when Nero leaned down to press his lips to Robyn’s neck again, and whatever words those might have been quickly died off before they had a chance of reaching his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut and his back started to arch off the bed, seemingly of their own accord, as Nero steadily worked his lips and teeth and tongue down his neck, down his chest, and lower still... Robyn’s breath hitched as Nero flicked his tongue over his navel, rubbed a teasing hand over his thigh, and already he could feel another one of those embarrassing moans rising in his throat and there wasn’t a single thing he could do to stop it, except perhaps to cover his face with his hands again and hope Nero wouldn’t notice—

“Oh, _what_ are you doing?”

But, of course, his efforts were doomed from the start. He was almost too afraid to look, but the feeling of Nero moving and shifting his weight on the bed prompted Robyn to pull his hands away—and before he could register anything that was going on he was suddenly scooped up by the waist, pulled abruptly into Nero’s lap with such swiftness that the only reaction he could muster was a sound of surprise much more embarrassing than the moan he was struggling to stifle just moments before.

Mercifully, Nero didn’t laugh at him this time, not even a chuckle. “Much better, hm?” His words were a murmur as he pulled Robyn’s hips flush against his own, and he moved Robyn’s legs to wrap around his waist, guided his arms to circle around his shoulders before he could cover his face again. “No more of that. I want to see your face...”

At this point Robyn was feeling a bit dazed, not only from surprise but also from the overwhelming sensation of Nero’s bare skin against his own; his hands had free reign to roam over his back, and his chest was pressed so close to him, and it was all he could do not to start rocking his hips against him... But still, Nero’s words lingered in his mind: _I want to see your face._

“Why?”

It was quiet, barely a word at all, breathed softly against the shell of Nero’s ear, so intent was he on kissing his neck all over again. But it was enough to bring him to a stop, to bring him to lift his head again and look Robyn in the eye with a bemused expression.

“Why? What sort of question is _that?_ ” He raised a hand to touch Robyn’s face, to once again trace lightly over the scar on his cheek. “Why... If you could only see yourself right now, you would _know_ why.”

Really, Robyn thought that if he could see himself then he would only look as confused as he felt. But before he could repeat himself, more insistently perhaps, Nero kissed him again—not on his neck or his jaw or his forehead but on his lips instead, and once again Robyn felt every questioning voice in his mind fall silent. He pushed, and Robyn’s lips parted, and Nero’s tongue flicked against his own, and Robyn’s hand trailed up the back of Nero’s neck to rake through his hair, and Nero’s hand fell from Robyn’s face to take hold of his cock, and Robyn found himself no longer caring about what sort of sounds he was making as he keened against Nero’s mouth.

At some point—Robyn didn’t know when, he was far beyond any capacity to tell the passage of time—he felt the heat and weight of Nero’s cock against his own, and the friction between them, between him and Nero’s hand, grew ever more insistent. Nero finally broke from their haphazard kiss to pant for breath, and Robyn found himself doing the same, pressing his forehead against Nero’s and tugging on his hair and clutching at his back and thrusting into his hand ever more urgently—and when he came it was with a shout, with a sensation like lightning racing throughout his entire body, pulsing outward from his core into fractal bursts down to his fingers and toes.

When he finally caught his breath, he dimly realized he was still clinging onto Nero just as tightly as before—and Nero seemed to realize this as well, if the soft chuckle in Robyn’s ear was any indication.

“A fine start, wouldn’t you agree?”

This time, Robyn was in no mood to protest Nero’s snark. He only wanted to be swept away.  
  


* * *

  
By the time Nero was fully spent, the long hours of the night had already turned to the small hours of the morning after. Robyn lay awake at his side, wondering about a number of things, not least among them just how in the world he had been able to keep up with this insatiable Garlean and come out unscathed.

Still, at the forefront of his mind were Nero’s words: _I want to see your face. Perfection. The very pinnacle of ancient Allag’s achievement._

It wouldn’t be like Nero at all to be understated, and Robyn knew this. He _knew_ this, and yet... He had felt some sincerity behind his words, and it had stuck with Robyn like a thorn lodged in his chest.

The lights in his room had been dimmed long ago, but still, though it was too dark to see more than the mere outline of his face, Robyn turned to look at Nero. Just when he made up his mind to speak, though, his voice caught in his throat.

Fortunately, a murmur from Nero saved his resolve. “Was there something else?” he muttered, clearly having just barely stirred from his post-coital slumber.

Still, Robyn found himself hesitating. Still, Robyn found himself flinching from the truth...

“You were...” He stopped, reconsidered. “I’m...” Stopped, reconsidered again. “I’m not—”

“You’re not _what?_ ”

“I’m not—” He stopped, wrenched his eyes shut, and mustered all his strength just to force the truth past his stumbling tongue. “I’m not... _perfect._ I’m...a reject. Defective. I don’t know why but when they—when the Allagans made me, I—I came out _wrong._ ”

Nero was quiet for a moment, which was all the time Robyn needed for his heart to skip a beat or two. Then he shifted his weight onto his elbow, looking down at Robyn in the dark.

“And exactly what part of you is defective?”

Robyn was taken aback by the question, too taken aback to immediately respond with _everything_ —it was obvious, wasn’t it? Obvious in the marks on his face, the uneven coloring of his hair and his eyes, the smallness of his stature and weakness of his arm and everything else—

“Rather,” Nero continued, cutting him off before he could give voice to his protest, “I should think you an exemplary model... After all, you’re alive, aren’t you? What other Allagan can say that?”

Whatever protest Robyn had prepared to mount was instantly, though perhaps not entirely, quelled. There was still a voice of doubt in the back of his mind, to be sure, but... What Nero had just said was something he hadn’t considered before. It was something he would continue to consider, taking precedence above all else in his mind, as Nero lay beside him once again, hand lightly curled atop Robyn’s chest, and Robyn’s hand rose to meet his.  
  


* * *

  
When Robyn woke at dawn, he was alone. It took a moment for him to remember why this felt so odd, and why it didn’t feel odd at all that he was entirely unclothed.

Slowly, as he sat himself upright on the side of the bed, the events of the night before came back to him in full clarity. He wondered why he would have ever expected Nero stay; he supposed he should be surprised that he stayed as long as he did, or that he came here in the first place. Then again, perhaps Nero was never a man to do what was expected of him anyway.

It was only when Robyn began to dress himself and gather his things when Nero’s words returned to him as well. Exemplary... Something about the word didn’t feel right; it felt rather like Nero had just been exaggerating again. After all, Unei and Doga had been Allagans like him, more perfectly executed clones than him, and they seemed to have been doing rather well for themselves, hadn’t they—right up until Robyn had gotten himself involved with their plight...

As he picked up one of his potions, however, he noticed a slip of parchment tucked underneath that hadn’t been there before. The writing on it was brief, surprisingly so considering Robyn had a good guess as to who had left it there:

_Had other matters to attend to. I’m sure you have your own as well._  
_Don’t forget what I said, or else I’ll have to come and remind you. I don’t think you’ll like it so much next time._

Robyn wondered about that, and he wondered about Nero’s need to dig at him even when he wasn’t physically near him. He wondered if Nero had actually been sincere, or if it was just another way of teasing him. He wondered...

But he was the Warrior of Light, and he had little time to spend wondering about what might or might not be. With a deep sigh, he tucked away the slip of parchment into one of his pockets, and he prepared to set off into the new day.


End file.
